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MOROZKO
Nuka waited just outside Saren’s house, his eyes trained on the entrance, so the wolf was the first thing Morozko saw as he shut the door. Nuka’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, and his plumed tail wagged furiously.
At least someone is gladdened to see me.Morozko sighed.
The king’s lips twitched in a small smile as he crossed the distance to his familiar and rubbed beneath his chin. A bright spot amongst the wreckage of the village. More than a dozen mortals were dead, and a few homes had burned down, but what unsettled Morozko most was not knowingwhocould’ve been possessed. How many changelings had slipped through the seal, and how many inhabited the children of Vinti?
Before waking Eirah, he’d gathered his guards and scoured the village for any visible signs of changelings. Unfortunately, they had discovered none. Of course, doors were hanging from their hinges, windows shattered, and livestock pens were snapped, butnothingof those dreaded bastards.
How many? It was a question that plagued him. How many had escaped? If he went by his visions, he’d say nearly two dozen, but could he rely on those alone?
Morozko pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning. “If they’d listened, Nuka, none of this would be happening,” he ground out. Yet, if theyhadlistened, if the villagers hadn’t forgotten as time passed, he’d never have met Eirah. Morozko did, in fact, regret not reminding them. Not because of the lives lost but because of what it meant for him now. Still, he always assumed he could handle it and thwart any issue that arose from it. But now? Doubt lapped at his conscience.
His fingers curled into Nuka’s fur as he mulled over that notion. In a short time, Eirah had wheedled her way into his mind. Morozko didn’t want to acknowledge it, but what was the use? If he’d never met Eirah, his life would’ve remained in the same dull, monotonous pattern.
Eirah was infuriating, but at the very least, she broke up his routine. Now that he thought about it, she had entirely disrupted his life. He hadn’t taken a female to bed since he had left for the selection in Vinti. His lips quirked into a sardonic smile—not unless one counted having a fluttering bird slumbering next to them.
But Morozko would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want her bare body pressing against his, her breath against his neck and arms around him. And that was the least of it. Damn it to the deepest crevice. He wanted to taste her lips more. Let his fingers glide and explore what part made her sigh or moan. Whether she was a virgin didn’t matter to him, but knowing he could teach her a plethora of things, including what pleasure was, sent his heart racing.
He blamed his visions for softening him toward her, but in truth, it was just Eirah. How, even when afraid, she fiercely braved what he—life—threw at her. And when he baited her, she rose to the occasion instead of cowering. As if, perhaps, she were an equal. She didn’t deserve death, and the promise of her end stirred his ire.
Morozko couldn’t spend too much time dwelling on that thought because Eirah’s voice, chiming over the gathering throng of villagers, interrupted him.
He turned as she approached, her arm looping through her father’s as he walked forward. Fedir’s bespectacled gaze lingered on Morozko for too long, and, in turn, he lifted a brow. He’d fixed the man’s glasses, not because he had any sentiment toward him but because of how distraught Eirah had been. It seemed a small token in the broad scheme of things.
As her father stared at him, Morozko wondered if the mortal still ruminated over the idea of Eirah in bed with him. Despite the melancholic mood, Morozko chuckled, and Eirah’s eyes found his.
Hooves clopped onto the frozen ground, and one of Morozko’s guards led a shaggy chestnut horse up to them. Behind the palfrey was a simple wooden sleigh that had seen better days. Deep gouges marred the side, and the cushions hardly seemed like cushions. Still, the runners were in decent condition.
“Your Majesty,” Eirah’s father said, bowing his head. When his gaze caught Morozko’s, there seemed to be a question burning behind his eyes. “Thank you for taking care of my daughter.”
Morozko’s lips remained in a firm line. He contemplated a silver-tongued retort—one that wouldn’t reassure the man at all—but at the last moment, he reconsidered. “It is the least I can do.” Not long after, Saren emerged from around the house with another horse in tow. Morozko assumed that one belonged to Saren.
Eirah crossed the distance and embraced Saren, then walked up to her father and hugged him. “Keep your eyes open, both of you.” She looked between them, offering the smallest of smiles before she made her way to Morozko.
Although Morozko was surprised she wanted to ride with him, he didn’t show it. He schooled his features into an impassive expression as he extended his hand to Eirah. “The guards at the palace have likely descended the mountain to meet us halfway. We need to keep a decent pace, but in the end, we’re only as quick as our slowest traveler.” He clucked his tongue, and Nuka, taking the cue, laid down.
As Eirah curled her fingers into Nuka’s fur, he turned his head and nudged her with his nose ever so lightly, then licked her. She blinked, stunned by the act. With a smile, she climbed up into the saddle.
Morozko sighed. Even the wolf’s affections were compromised. Before long, what remained of the village surrounded them. He surveyed the faces, trying to see if any struck him as odd. Could he see the glimmer of a demon in any of the children? Sadly, none scraped at their skin or hissed with bared teeth at him. It would’ve made it easier if they did.
Perhaps they’d have luck with the fires blazing inside the ice structures. If they were lucky, a few would scramble outside, afraid to draw near to the inferno within.
Nuka nudged him, sensing his inner turmoil, no doubt. But Morozko couldn’t think on it too long as he needed to lead the villagers to the encampment. He truly didn’t want to because he feared what lurked in the mortals—and in the woods, too. No part of him wanted to bring that so close to his home.
Yet, here they were.
Morozko climbed into the saddle, settling behind Eirah, which might not have been the most brilliant of ideas. She nestled between his thighs, and whether she was aware of it or not, she leaned into his chest. The scent of her invaded his senses. Warm, floral, and so very enticing.
The memory of her lips against his flashed in his mind, but he was careful to shield his thoughts, not wanting her privy to them. Still, the feeling of her body against his, melding with that moment against the tree… If he didn’t distract himself, Eirah would know where his mind was soon enough.
Before he set off, he brushed a few strands of Eirah’s hair to the side, exposing her skin. She shivered, but he knew it wasn’t because of the cold. The urge to press his mouth to the spot just behind her ear grew more and more. Instead, he leaned against her back and kept his voice low as he said, “I hope I don’t regret this.” Even as he spoke, he wasn’t certain whether it was regarding the camp or staying in one of the ice houses with Eirah.
In that moment, he wished he could hear her thoughts, yet nothing called to him.
With a cue, Nuka set off in a slow trot, allowing those in the sleighs to keep up without pushing their horses too hard. Morozko supposed, to a mortal, it was already cold enough. His breath billowed from his mouth in visible clouds, and judging by the thick fur coats or blankets the humans had wrapped around them, it was frigid.
The trees didn’t tremble as Nuka trotted by. Their boughs remained frozen in place, unwilling to relinquish the ice encasing their branches. At least the wind was in their favor, for it didn’t howl or push back.
